


The Green Eyed Monster

by zade



Series: Modern Love: That One Clarphamy Modern AU [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Multi, Polyamory, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, functional polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:55:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zade/pseuds/zade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had all been a lovely plan, right up until he had seen Clarke’s phone lying on the kitchen counter, instead of in the pocket of her scrubs at WhattheFuckEver Hospital, and had remembered the really cute selfie she had taken of the three of them eating ice cream, and resolved to find it.</p><p>He hadn’t expected to find a series of texts between Clarke and Bellamy, not their usual group conversation, but a private one from the night before.  He knew he shouldn’t read it, but his eyes were too fast for his conscience.</p><p>written for the prompt: clarphamy & modern au? If you don't specify you get angst, I'm sorry I don't make the rules</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Green Eyed Monster

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: jealousy, misunderstanding, self-hatred, alcohol-use (possible misuse?), but there's a happy ending so it's fine
> 
> beta'd by my darling [hateboners](www.hateboners.tumblr.com)

Murphy was alone. It had become somewhat the norm, since Clarke was just starting her Residency, and Bellamy was training to be a cop. They kept odd hours. He hadn’t noticed it so much until he had been fired from his basically meaningless job at the local grocery store, which left him with a lot of time to sit on his ass and play x-box, and missed them both.

They were both supposed to be home today, too. He had had a whole day planned for the three of them, which ended in some mindblowing hypothetical sex, but that was all over now. It was now 1:30 in the afternoon, and he was alone, and hadn’t quite made it out of bed.

He decided he had had a little bit too much of wallowing and his head was beginning to get fuzzy with hunger, so he reluctantly pulled himself out of bed. He would eat breakfast, he would gather his essentials, and write a note, maybe. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Then again, maybe he would just go.

It had all been a lovely plan, right up until he had seen Clarke’s phone lying on the kitchen counter, instead of in the pocket of her scrubs at WhattheFuckEver Hospital, and had remembered the really cute selfie she had taken of the three of them eating ice cream, and resolved to find it.

He hadn’t expected to find a series of texts between Clarke and Bellamy, not their usual group conversation, but a private one from the night before. He knew he shouldn’t read it, but his eyes were too fast for his conscience.

B: should we tell him?

C: No. See you at 10?

B: yeah. luv u

Clarke and Bellamy had come in at different times between 11:30 and 12:15, so he hadn’t suspected they were together. He hadn’t suspected anything really, because what was Murphy, if not an idiot. 

He went to the kitchen, deciding to sacrifice some cereal to the angry god that was his stomach.

They were out of milk. There was only one grocery store worth going to in town, and they had fired him, so he refused to do the grocery shopping. He riffled through the fridge for anything vaguely milk like, and settled on a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream, which was not really milk-like, but it would get him drunk.

It didn’t taste as good in his cereal as he had hoped, but by his second bowl he was no longer burdened with a hunger-headache, and was pleasantly buzzed. He hated how quiet it was when no one was home, hated being by himself, but he figured that was what the future had in store for him, so he might as well get used to it.

Clarke burst in at 2:15, with an obnoxiously cheerful, “Good afternoon, gents! And how are we today?” as she toed off her shoes and headed into the kitchen, where Murphy was sitting eating his cereal concoction on the counter, instead of the perfectly functional kitchen table.

“Just me,” he said, and tried to smile. It made his face hurt, so he stopped. “And we’re out of milk.”

He watched the way Clarke’s face fell when she realized Bellamy wasn’t home, and he wished he had not gotten out of bed at all.

“You left your phone here,” he said, hoping to get a reaction out of her, but she just shrugged, and, dropping her bag and coat, came to kiss him, which he dodged by shoving another spoonful in his mouth.

“What’s in your cereal, then?” she asked. He gestured at the bottle to his left, and Clarke scrunched her nose up in mild disgust. “Bailey’s? That’s gross, Murph. It’s only 2.”

“That means it’s way after five in Paris and Rome. I’m being continental.” He ate viciously, banging is spoon against the bowl with every bite. Clarke tried to kiss him hello again, but he jerked back. “I’m not really up for playing house right now, Clarke.”

She put her hands up in surrender, knowing how little he liked to be touched when he was upset. A childhood of foster homes had left him scars she didn’t understand, but always tried to respect. He hated her for it, now. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

He threw his spoon and bowl down and scowled. They didn’t break, just made a mess on the counter that he ignored, just because he knew how much Clarke hated messes, and crossed his arms over his chest. He should have just stayed in bed. Jesus, this was the worst birthday ever. “Can you stop fucking around a just do it?”

Clarke froze, puzzled, and clearly resisting the urge to clean. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Murphy swallowed hard, felt his eyes well up with tears and wished he wasn’t so stupid and weak. “I know you and Bellamy have been sneaking off. It makes sense. It was you two before it was the three of us, and I get it. Like, why would you want me, right?” he laughed, an ugly sarcastic laugh and he could see how devastated it made Clarke look. “Just say it. I’ve been looking at apartments, and if I need to I can stay with Mbege for a few days.”

Clarke looked stricken. “What?” she said after a long moment.

Murphy sniffled and he hated himself, squashing his tears with the heel of his palm.  
“It’s okay,” he told her. “Just say it so I can go.”

“Murphy,” she said. Her voice was low with emotion, the sort of pain he usually only heard when she was arguing with her mother on the phone. “We were planning a surprise for you, for your birthday.”

Murphy gaped. His hands felt suddenly sweaty, and he wiped them on his pants, rubbing circles on his thighs, trying to stop himself from panicking. “What? But—” He took a deep breath. He couldn’t have read the situation that wrong. “I saw your texts.”

She nodded. “Bellamy wanted to tell you what we had planned, but I thought it should be a surprise. Did you scroll up?” He shook his head and she smiled patiently. She was going to be a great doctor, and Bellamy, a great cop, and he? He was going to continue to suck at Halo until a new one came out for him to also suck at.

“We’d been having a whole discussion about it, and I’m sorry you saw it. Bellamy was supposed to be here to distract you until I got home. We have a whole night planned.”

It was proof of how much of a fuck up he was that he had managed to mangle this so much. He wanted to scream and he wanted to be alone, and he wanted desperately for Bellamy to be here, too. Why did they even like him, he was stupid and he couldn’t even hold a job—he didn’t even like himself, why would anyone else?

Murphy started crying outright, and Clarke stepped into his space, and he collapsed on her like a blanket. “I’m sorry,” she said, “we should have told you.”

He could barely breathe. Jesus, he’s such an idiot. They’re going to leave now, now that they know he has no faith in them. “I thought,” he said, then again. “I thought that—”

Bellamy burst through the door. “Sorry! I’m sorry, I—” he rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw Clarke and Murphy and stopped, a horrified expression planted on his face. “What did I miss?”

And that was even worse. Murphy’s face was embarrassingly wet, and he found himself crying more because of embarrassment and was immediately trapped in a shame cycle, which was sort of the story of his life.

“There was a misunderstanding,” Clarke explained. “Can he see your phone?”

Bellamy, baffled but compliant, handed his phone to Clarke. Murphy realized what she was doing as soon as she handed it to him, appropriate messages open and displayed.

It was even more upsetting to see the details of what they had planned, sweet and fun. He hadn’t realized it, but Bellamy had come and tucked himself around Murphy’s other side. “I’m so fucking dumb.” 

“No, you’re not,” Bellamy said, which wasn’t helpful, because Bellamy didn’t even know the extent of Murphy’s stupidity, he wasn’t there.

“Ugh kill me, I am too dumb for this world.” He knew that Bellamy and Clarke were giving each other the looks that they do every time he says anything negative about himself, but he had barely stopped crying and his face felt itchy and blotchy and he wanted to go back to bed.

Clarke tugged Murphy off the counter, and she and Bellamy half-dragged half-pushed Murphy to the couch. “The bowl,” he said, turning back to the mess he made.

“Isn’t going anywhere,” Clarke said. “And we are, if you’re up for it.”

She fell back onto the couch, and waited for Murphy to fall next to her, which he did, limply, and Bellamy right after him. “So am I the worst at receiving birthday surprises or what?”

Clarke smiled and tugged him closer, until he was lying on her lap. “Absolutely the worst. But we love you.”

Bellamy nodded, and Murphy could feel it against his shoulder. “We do love you. And we are going to talk about this later.”

Murphy hummed in agreement. “No more surprises, okay?” He hated surprises, and they knew it, and at their family meeting later, he would stress again, that that was a no on surprises, and grovel until he convinced them that he didn’t think his presence in their relationship was as fragile as he really thought it was.

Bellamy chuckled and said to Clarke. “So should we tell him about the puppy?”

“I swear if you’re teasing me and there is not a puppy in my arms by the end of the day, heads will roll.”

Clarke and Bellamy laughed, and as always, Murphy was content to be in the middle of that, and maybe someday he would finally make himself into a shape that fit better between them.

**Author's Note:**

> come bother/love/prompt me on [tumblr](www.racetrackthehiggins.tumblr.com)


End file.
